


WHUMP TO KINK TOBER 2020 DAY 1

by CuteCabaret



Series: WHUMP TO KINK TOBER 2020 [1]
Category: Dungeons & Dragons (Roleplaying Game), Original Work
Genre: F/F, Femslash, Implied Kidnapping, Kinktober 2020, Light Bondage, Mutual Masturbation, PWP, Whumptober 2020, femmeslash, porn with a little plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-02
Updated: 2020-10-02
Packaged: 2021-03-07 22:27:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,886
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26765050
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CuteCabaret/pseuds/CuteCabaret
Summary: The daughter of the local count gets taken for ransom for the umpteenth time, but this time her captors aren't the gentlest with her appendages. She still makes do to please her elf girlfriend the best she can.
Relationships: Original Female Character/Original Female Character
Series: WHUMP TO KINK TOBER 2020 [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1950670
Kudos: 3





	WHUMP TO KINK TOBER 2020 DAY 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is going to probably need a lot of outside context to really understand if you aren't familiar with my OCs and the many universes they are involved in, but it's for meme challenges, so I don't actually care. My idea is to combine whumptober with kinktober and make it all femmeslash, so each prompt starts with whump and ends with kink. I'm using the official whumptober2020 tumblr's prompt list, although I'm not adding it to that collection, and I'm using a kinktober list I found from lustyargonianmaid's tumblr. The prompt for this one is:
> 
> Let’s Hang Out Sometime “Shackled” to Mutual Masturbation. Enjoy!

She flexed her wrist – nope, still no give. Well, she supposed after two hours of trying, she shouldn’t expect anything different, right? Still...they were starting to hurt...and she was so small and nonthreatening. Was it really necessary to shackle her wrists together? “You know, I could just pay you the ransom myself -” One of her masked assailants grabbed her chin and hauled her up on her feet again. Maybe she should have kept her mouth shut.

“Di’n’t we tell you to stay quiet?” The voice snarled – oh, right, they did! They shoved her down again, way closer to the campfire than she would have preferred...but it gave her an idea? She inched closer, enough for the shackles to get heated – and shrunk back immediately with a pained hiss. Okay, that plan was a failure. It was back to just biding time, in the middle of this forest clearing, waiting for rescue. But her small attempt at escape again apparently got noticed because suddenly her face was in the dirt and her shackles were gone for one blissful second – before being replaced with tighter ones. “Don’t make us have to bind your legs too!” A voice hissed in her ear.

“I won’t -” Oh right, no talking, but her cheek was stinging anyway and blood was bubbling in her mouth. Through the haze of pain, she realized she bit her tongue. Was it her imagination, or were her hands starting to turn blue? At least her fingers? She wiggled her toes, marveling at how they functioned perfectly. Back to more waiting.

Maybe she fell asleep, or something, because the next thing she knew, the sun was up, the fire had died down significantly and she was tied to a tree, still in the tight shackles. The smell of roasted meat came wafting over to her nose and her stomach growled. She stretched to try to look above the treeline, but she couldn’t get a good view, and just trying made every muscle scream. The meat smelled like venison, so they had to at least be close to a local lord. And this time, in the light, she could clearly see her circulation starting to suffer, even if she couldn’t feel it for some reason.

“What’re we gonna do if she turns out to actually be some nobody and we don’t get paid?”

“Sell ‘er to some brothel, I s’ppose.”

She snapped awake again around mid noon, from what she thought was more bodily complaints about its empty status, but as everything became clearer, she noticed the camp was in an uproar. Her eyes lit up for a second before she flinched at the sight of a sword going through a man’s neck. “You took a while!” She whined, as she heard keys click into place, and just like that her hands were free, even if she couldn’t feel them.

“Your father wanted a plan.” An elf maid said, pulling her hands away to inspect them. She tsked. “How long were you shackled?” She shook her head. “The court clerics are going to confine you to house arrest again. You’ll have weeks of lessons to make up.” The elf took her by the hand and pushed her down to dodge a crossbow bolt. “They should know not to fire into melee!” She grumbled.

“It’s okay, Fi.” The former captive said. “I’ll manage.” She let her elf rescuer herd her away from the battle and into the cart, tuning out all the admonishments the guards were giving her in favor of making heart eyes at her beloved. How did Filaurel manage to get included in this rescue mission anyway? She was still dressed in castle servant garb, too. She looked up as a bag of holding with her name – Narcissa – was plopped into her lap. The guard giving it to her didn’t look too pleased, even with her sheepish smile. Tension: not lightened.

She had hoped that by dinner, at least, she’d have some feeling back in her fingers, enough to at least hold a utensil to eat for the first time that day, but alas. Clerics came and went and the verdict was that if she had lost a limb, it would have been easier to just reattach the thing. Once again, the solution was more waiting, and nobody looked kindly on her suggestion to indeed just remove the offending digits and let magic sort it out. What buzzkills. She managed a small smile as she got her index finger to wiggle more and the tingling feeling subsided by a margin. “Look, Fi, I can feed mys- mph!”

“Not until you get mobility in every finger.” The elf scolded, giving her lady the last bit of boiled pheasant off her plate. “You’re going to have to show me more than a twitch for me to believe you.” She got up to deliver the empty plate to the kitchens, where it belonged.

Narcissa scowled at empty space – she wasn’t a child. You could handle a fork with pins and needles! She stared at her hands in the dying sunlight, seeing if maybe just glaring at them would be enough to get them to move again – there! See, she WAS recovering, and it was only a day! People had such low expectations for her, sheesh. She wasn’t actually sickly this time… Unless. Hmm. Yeah, that WOULD make sense, none of the clerics even mentioned her lessons. Only Filaurel. Well, she’d have to come back up to light the candles – and hold the book, since she was so insistent. She got her limited dexterity to work enough to pull back the covers, and angle herself just right…

Filaurel opened the door with a book in hand and was treated to a full frontal view. She put the book down on the nearest surface, and squinted. “What are you doing?”

“Showing you I can use my hands.” Narcissa was already knuckle deep in herself, and Filaurel’s elf sight meant she could see every small motion Narcissa’s thumb was doing around her own clit. “This is way more than a twitch…” She cut herself off with a moan. Filaurel always looked so pretty when the light was changing, with the sunset lighting up her dark hair and eyes just the right way.

The elf closed the door, mostly to cut off the sound. “If you wanted me to play with you, you could have just asked.” She huffed.

“No…” She inserted another finger. “This isn’t about that.” She slid both fingers out and went to dancing her whole hand over her vulva – less precise, less proof, but she needed it. Her other hand dipped into her chemise and went on a journey to her nipple, as she tried to untie the drawstring with her teeth. “I think -” She began, mouth full of linen, “That you just wanna baby me. And YOU could have just asked for THAT.” She gave up with the drawstring in order to pout.

“You didn’t do a good job of preparing yourself.” Filaurel drawled, coming closer and untying the damned drawstring. “Are you sure you don’t want help?” She reached for Narcissa’s other breast and almost got bitten.

“I can do it...come see for yourself!” Narcissa insisted, deeming herself wet enough to try two fingers again. It wasn’t the smoothest insertion, but she managed it, and, swiping over her clit again with the pad of her thumb, she inhaled sharply. Filaurel, instead, got up and lit the candle, and that turned Narcissa on more, to see Fi’s face clearer and see how...slightly flushed it was. It really didn’t seem right to leave her out of the fun just to make a point… “Why don’t you show me how proper fingers work, then? Maybe I’ll learn something.”

“Okay.” She went to reach -

“On yourself.” Narcissa insisted. So Filaurel obediently undid every lace, and button, and removed every layer, letting Narcissa bask in the view of how candlelight mixed with the last sliver of the sun’s rays made marbled patterns on golden skin. Narcissa looked just as breathtaking, if you asked Fi, sprawled out on her bed, face red from the effort of trying to prove something. Those sheets and that chemise in the way had to go, though, and Filaurel tossed them onto the pile of her own discarded clothes. Then it was just the two of them, naked in the blooming moonlight. Narcissa had abandoned her own lower half completely, preferring to practice on her own nipples instead – and they were definitely not hard from the breeze coming through the window.

Filaurel bit her lip in the way she knew Narcissa loved and trailed her own hands down her midsection, spreading herself and...grabbing a bottle of olive oil, spilled it all over. The laundry maids would be kind of displeased, probably, but Narcissa had an excuse, and now Fi was fit to glide her index finger through to the exact special spot she needed. “I told you to use help.” She reminded her. One stroke, two, three – she shifted just enough to tantalizingly position her pelvis within inches of Narcissa’s own.

“I’m not falling for that.” Narcissa quipped, no matter how much she wanted to. “You’re sneaky! Play fair!” In Narcissa’s eyes, outside lubrication was cheating, but if Fi did it first, she supposed it was fair game. She dunked her fingers into the remaining oil in the bottle and let out a pleasured sigh as she turned and slid two in as far as she could reach. She went back to maneuvering around her nipples with her other hand, now gliding smoothly across flesh. Fi decided to mirror her, with minor differences to account for preferences – Fi’s fingers were rougher on her own nipples than they ever were on Narcissa’s, and she tapped each finger tip directly on her own clit in rhythms that would have made Narcissa end things immediately had they been done on her, but...watching Filaurel have fun made Narcissa’s entrance glisten brighter than the olive oil did.

Fi had moved on to spelling the Espruar alphabet over her clit with one hand and spelling the Common alphabet inside herself with her other. The best dexterity test was writing, after all, and the fact that it also brought her closer to finishing was a bonus – Narcissa could tell by the way Fi was starting to tense up. Hey, wouldn’t it be neat if they came at the same time? Narcissa went back to palming her vulva for a minute or two, before spreading herself open again and gently, slowly, gliding her thumb over her clit again. They didn’t manage to finish together exactly, because the noise that came out of Narcissa’s mouth got Fi to come undone completely, and the sight of her, a flushed, panting mess, caused Narcissa to follow suit.

They lay in the afterglow, moon fully in the sky by now, for a good ten minutes, silent except for heavy breathing that dialed down to normal second by second. Narcissa reached for Filaurel’s fingers, still slick with olive oil and her own wetness, and grasped them in all ten of her own, similarly soaked. “Do you think I’m functional enough to feed myself breakfast tomorrow?”

Fi exhaled, long and slow and content. “Yeah. You’re recovered enough.”

**Author's Note:**

> I'm not actually too pleased with this, but this is my first time doing a meme challenge, and, well, I figured the first day was probably gonna be the hardest.


End file.
